Mythos: Remembrance
by Aidokime
Summary: What are the consequences of our actions? Will we be remembered long after we are gone? The time of Myth returns to Earth...
1. Remembrance

_So bury fear, while fate draws near  
__And hide the signs of pain.  
__With noble acts  
__The bravest souls endure,  
__the heart's remains.  
__Discard regret,  
__That in this debt  
__A better world is made  
__And children of a newer day might remember  
__And avoid our fate._

_**--Cruxshadows– "Winter Born"** _

Sentient species share common traits: culture, language, the ability to learn and understand abstract concepts– the free will to wage war upon itself.

One of the sentient races in the universe is that of the Cybertronian. Some would say that they are not truly a _race_, so much as a collective of robots. Some would say that these creatures are just not an organic race, and instead of flesh and bone, they are beings made of steel and circuits.

Humanoid beings of steel and circuits, each with the ability to transform into another form, the old-young race made war upon itself time and time again. Their home world, Cybertron, went through the cycle of destruction and renewal again and again, until it seemed the planet itself would explode.

And at last it began to show the signs of death. Energy was being used at an alarming rate, and became harder and harder to find, a scarce commodity, needed by all life on the dying world. Both factions began to look for new sources of power, and to this end, both factions built ships that would take them to the potential sources so that they might live a little longer.

The leaders of both the peace-loving Autobots, and the treacherous Decepticons left with these ships, and, a few days after the difficult launches, contact was lost. Nothing was heard from either of these ships– all were presumed dead.

Beyond the asteroid belt, and far from dying Cybertron, a blue-white planet rotated slowly on its axis, as it orbited the golden yellow star, barely acknowledging the passage of time. For countless ages, the living world danced between sun and moon. For countless ages, the secret of the lost ships remained within her warm embrace.

Echoes of deeds long past continued to echo in her bones, the mountains. The very rocks sung of the history of those who had slumbered within their tomb of mountain and fire.

The planet's children emerged. They listened to the stories in her bones, and passed them to their children, and their children's children. With each retelling, the stories continued to live. With each retelling the story changed.

The children begin to change, to stop listening. Stop telling the stories.

And the legends became myth, fading, until only the rocks remembered what the children have forgotten.

No one expected to hear from the missing Cybertronians again– but after four million years, the two forces awakened on the far distant planet called simply 'Earth'.

And the war began anew.

A world that never knew the ferocity of the Cybertronian wars, was now scarred from the battles between the two factions. The beings of the planet were thrown into danger of annihilation time and time again by the giants. Mankind was wholly unprepared for the sheer power of the beings that now walked among them.

The time of myth had returned to Earth.

**Earth Orbit: 2000 CE**

Earth rotated below the shuttle, white clouds swirling in the endless patterns of an active atmosphere. Between the clouds, the blues and greens and browns of the planet peeked out at the travelers, revealing the splendor of the living breathing world they had come so far to see.

Not just see, since most of those aboard were to remain on the planet to help protect the human population from what was termed by their own media as 'The Decepticon Menace'. A majority of the Autobots were defensive, or scientific types. Most would be useful in the building of the new city-fortress that had been planned.

Most of them, anyhow.

"All right, gents, let's get those seats back into th' upright position, an' stow yer tray tables. It's time ta start our descent." The Jazz's words echoed through Rewind's musings, as he, like a few others, made their way back from the viewing port.

Rewind was the exception to the scientific and defensive contingent. In fact, at times, he thought that the only reason that he was chosen to go along with this particular group was because it included Blaster. He knew that after four million years the Autobot communications specialist was loathe to be separated from his creations. All the tapes reciprocated the feeling. Either way, apart from most of the other Autobots, Rewind's specialty had nothing to do with science, or weapons, or anything to do with the actual fighting.

Rewind, the youngest of Blaster's creations, was an archivist.

The shuttle banked as Jazz started the final circle to descend to the landing strip in the desert near Mount Hillary. The low mutter of the Autobots and humans alike on the ground was barely audible over the soft roar of the engines, coming online to nudge the craft to the correct flight path.

"C'mon, Rewind–" Blaster called, "Time to hop in." The big red communications mech had his chest compartment open, and waiting. The safest place to be during a landing.

Rewind transformed as he jumped towards the space that he and the other tapes called 'home'. There would be plenty of time later to explore, and record. And for right now, he was content to stay out of the way.

**In Parallel Orbit**

"Shuttle within range, Megatron." The harmonic monotone opened a secured channel to the Decepticon leader with a thought. "What is your command?"

"Commence the operation." The command came immediately, "Send Laserbeak. Get the data on their defenses at all costs."

"Immediately." Soundwave acknowledged, and pressed the button on his shoulder, opening the chest compartment where his own cassettes rested. "Laserbeak: eject. Operation: data assimilation."

A tape ejected from the compartment, transforming as it sailed through the tiny chamber, and towards the airlock. Laserbeak's bird-like form knew what to do– and he did it well. The Decepticon communicator toggled the proper switches to allow the flight of the tape to remain uninhibited, as it sailed away from the illusory orbiting junk field, and towards the aft section of the shuttle as it passed.

Soundwave watched the monitors as the spy transformed, and slipped into a section of the wing, where he would be safe, attached by magnetic grapples, until the shuttle landed.

No alarm from the ship. No transmissions.

They hadn't seen the flight.

"Operation in progress." Soundwave announced over the radio link. "No detection. Retrieval will commence in one week, unless he is discovered."

"Very good, Soundwave." The voice did indeed sound pleased. "Report to me when the operation is over."

"Yes, mighty Megatron." The communication was cut off, and Soundwave was left alone again to monitor the planet below.

**The Ark: Two Days Later**

Boredom was the last thing that Rewind had expected to find when he arrived on Earth.

It wasn't as though the planet had nothing to keep him entertained, or for him to learn about– on the contrary, what he'd seen on the brief journey from the landing field to the volcano where the tail end of the ancient Autobot ark was sticking out of Mount Hillary was intriguing. Earth was a living, breathing _active_ world.

The problem, Rewind found, was getting away from the seemingly endless briefings that the Autobot leader had insisted that all those new to the planet sit in on. Optimus Prime had the best of intentions– but while current events were mildly interesting, and necessary, should any of the Autobots need to be anywhere on the planet– Rewind was finding himself more interested in what the history was behind some of these decisions. Some even appeared to be arbitrary, and to him made no sense whatsoever.

Sneaking a glance at Blaster, Rewind realized that the communications guru was deep in conversation with someone about how best to solve the problems of keeping the delicate radio equipment in a place of relative safety, while keeping the lines of communication open. A tower outside, would probably work. But Rewind wasn't about to enter the conversation. For the first time in the two days since he'd arrived, he had the chance to slip away, and do what he'd been longing to do since he realized that Teletran One was still operational.

The black and silver humanoid mech peeked up and down the corridor before starting the long trek towards what was once the bridge of the ship. Rewind's blue optics glinted excitedly in his red face. All he needed to do was find the main interface, and he'd have access to all the data that Teletran One had accumulated on this planet.

Carefully Laserbeak made his way through the wide orange lit corridors of the ark, ever heading in the labyrinth towards his goal. The main bridge of the crashed Autobot ship– where Teletran One's main console was housed.

So far he'd managed to evade detection by the Autobots– narrowly avoiding a surprise rampage through the hallways by the red and yellow Lamborghini twins, followed closely by the Dinobots. Only a few well placed cracks in the ship's hull had allowed Laserbeak to escape notice. He'd been fortunate.

It hadn't actually taken him two days to get from the cargo hold where he'd managed to get himself smuggled in the cracks of a cargo crate. It had taken him two days to make an inventory of the supplies, and get the code for the door. All while escaping detection. Of course, Laserbeak had also heard plenty about the new 'city' that was being built a few hours away. Not the technical information that he was looking for, but it would be worth reporting when he got back.

If he got back.

Voices from a conference room not far away grew louder for the space of time it would take for a door to open and slowly close.

Immediately the Decepticon spy transformed, attaching himself to the edge of one of the ceiling tiles, as a small black and silver Autobot snuck into the corridor, and carefully looked up and down the length of the hallway. The mech paused for a moment, tapping a finger against the mask that covered the lower part of his face, thoughtfully looking towards the end of the room where Laserbeak clung.

For a moment, Laserbeak thought he'd been discovered as the Autobot that his databanks now identified as Rewind, started to walk his way– but then realized that Rewind was heading for the same door that he had been aiming for. The bridge, and Teletran One.

This might prove a little more difficult than he had expected.

As the tape passed through the doorway, Laserbeak transformed, and followed on silent wings.

"I dunno, Prowl," Jazz said for what seemed like the tenth time in as many minutes. "I jus' don't know the answer right now. Ever since th' communications post went boom, I ain't been able t'get anythin' from the underground." He shook his head. The normally easygoing mech was obviously frustrated.

"If we're going to successfully implement the warning system for the moons, we need to know the security system specifications for the polar regions" Prowl said quietly,

"This was th'last information that Dice gave me 'fore she disappeared." Jazz returned, gesturing towards the screen. "I know it's accurate– an' she did have a backup from 'Lita's group."

"And you are going to train Cliffjumper as your second? The codes themselves..."

"It'd take too long fer me ta 'splain 'em all, an' teach 'em t'Cliffjumper b'fore he gets ta the moon base. I'll have t'handle the data streams m'self, until he can catch on."

"It's a risk– "

"Sometimes ya gotta take a risk, Prowl."

"Does the backup know the correct frequencies and codes? And what if Dice has been captured– the Decepticons could have the information right now."

"Dice ain't like that, Prowl." Jazz said firmly, an unusually serious look on his face. "Dice would die 'fore she'd let the 'Cons get a hold of her." Prowl watched Jazz as the special ops commander turned back to the screen.

"How long has she been missing?" He inquired after a moment.

"Few weeks now." Jazz told him, without looking up, "She'll turn up. M'not too worried. After all, we were missin' for a few million, an'–"

"That was different, Jazz–" Prowl heard the door open and close, but didn't turn around just yet.

"Don't." There was no playfulness to Jazz's tone now. "She waited fer us for four million years. I ain't givin' up on her so quickly."

The door opened. The door closed.

Laserbeak was barely able to slip in undetected– however the two white mechs in the room seemed preoccupied with something else, and none looked towards the ceiling– yet. He glided silently to the closest hidden perch in the room. Which appeared to be atop Teletran One's main screen.

The Decepticon spy landed, settling in to watch for the opportunity to use the ports that connected directly with the ship's main computer. Patience was one of his virtues. Laserbeak could wait.

Rewind found the bridge occupied. Not necessarily what he'd hoped for, however, the pair of white and black Autobots were not likely to give him too much grief for slipping away from Blaster.

From the snipit of conversation he'd caught, he was walking into another serious discussion that he didn't want to interrupt– so he headed straight for the auxiliary ops console.

"What can I do for ya, Rewind?" Jazz called, redirecting him towards the pair. For some reason neither he nor Prowl seemed to be upset about an interruption to the conversation. In fact, Jazz seemed rather glad to see someone else.

"Nothing, really, I was just curious about a few things, and was hoping to see if Teletran One could enlighten me." Rewind gestured towards the enormous console. "If it was not too much trouble."

"Like what?"

"The humans have named their new interstellar spaceship the 'Argo'. I was wondering about the origin of that name– who or what 'Argo' was."

"Ah, that's th' name o' a ship from a long time ago in onna the Mediterranean countries." Jazz said with a grin, and a glint from behind the visor.

"A part of the ancient mythology of the country known as Greece, actually." Prowl said, flipping through some of the data that he and Jazz had been looking at when Rewind had entered.

"A myth? So did it exist or not?"

"Well," said Jazz, "That depends on who yer askin'. Earth's got a lot o' good stories 'round that may or may not be true– an' some o' them might have a seed o' truth, an' a lot of exaggeration.." He gave Prowl a wry smile, and headed for the exit corridor. "An' sometimes ya just gotta clear yer head. I'll be back in a li'l while t'go over the rest o' that data."

Prowl watched him go, then gestured towards the console.

"I believe you will find the story of the Argo under the story called 'Jason and the Argonauts'. Country of origin is Greece."

"Thank you, sir." Rewind said, taking up a spot next to the monitor, and starting the search for information.

Who among the brave dares the adventure of the golden fleece?

_**Jason, the rightful king of Iolcus was given the task of finding the legendary Golden Fleece, so that peace and prosperity might return to his kingdom. For such an heroic task, he culled upon the princes of men; the heros of Greece. **_

_**Men in whom flowed the noble blood of royalty, and in some cases, the blood of the gods themselves. Many came, and many gathered to hew the mighty trees of Pelion, to follow Argus's instructions on the building of a ship the likes of which had never been seen before, and many thought would never be seen again.**_

_**Jason himself went to find the last of the noble princes, while the ship was being crafted upon the beaches of Iolcus. His childhood friend Orpheus, the son of a muse, and the greatest musician who had ever lived, had not come with the rest, being laid low in a cave with his grief.**_

"_**I beg thee to come with us, and tame the beasts we shall meet, as only thou canst." Jason was reported to have said, meeting the arguments of the musician with words of sweet truth. Finally Orpheus agreed to accompany the throneless king, and the two traveled to Dodona to seek the blessings of the gods on the adventure. After the appropriate sacrifices, Jason was sent to the sacred oak grove, to retrieve the branch which spoke and prophesied.**_

_**And Argus put the branch into the bow of the ship, and thus the Argo was completed. Then the heros boarded the vessel, and headed out to sea, Orpheus at the helm, and Jason at the bow.**_

_**So began the adventure of Jason and the Argonauts.**_

"_...Argonauts of old, that they, too, were noble men, who planned and did a noble deed; and that therefore their fame has lived and been told in story and in song, mixed up, no doubt, with dreams and fables, yet true and right at heart...i"_

Rewind paused in the middle of the text, and smiled behind his facemask at the simplified version of what appeared to be a complex and contradictory story.

"I wonder what the real story was." He mused aloud, "Had their own Teletran One, with that oak branch. And I wonder why a musician would be given a place of such importance that needed skill beyond that of a bard."

"This is a myth." Prowl's voice carried from beside the operations console that he was monitoring. "Perhaps there was something more to the 'real' Orpheus than is remembered– if there ever was such a person."

"Origins of the myth are unknown." Teletran One put in, "There is little evidence of a real ship of that nature. There is a city that is now called Iolcos."

"Iolcos, huh?" The similarity to the familiar name of the Autobot's city was a little odd, but Rewind was used to coincidences. "The Ark was built in Iacon, though you're not an oak branch, and were with the ship from the start."

"That statement is incorrect." Teletran One obviously didn't feel the need explain itself further.

"You're... an oak branch then?"

"Incorrect. I was programmed in DataNode 3, in the southwest quadrant of Helihex." Teletran One explained in its usual monotone. "And was later installed into the Ark shortly before launch."

"But I thought Wheeljack created Teletran One–"

"I was programmed by Xaus of DataNode 3. It is in my memory banks."

"Wheeljack installed Teletran's program into the ark, but he did not create it." Prowl offered from his post.

"How did it get from ... DataNode 3 to Iacon?"

Teletran One obediently brought forwards a written report after a few moments wait. It was an old mission report– and by human terms, it was positively ancient.

**AI Retrieval Mission Report, 12 Helix Second Vertex**

Special Operative Meister accompanied Director Prowl to the city of DataNode 3, in search of the programmer Xaus. Mission was a success, though Xaus elected to remain behind in DN3. AI will be installed in the Ark on 18 Helix by Technician/Engineer Wheeljack.

"Are there any more details than that?"

"I have no more details on that mission parameter. Suggestion: Ask Prowl, or Agent Meister."

"Who is Meister?" Asked Rewind cautiously.

"That data is classified."

"Meister is the codename for someone in special ops. It keeps the Decepticons from identifying and knowing who to look for, or who to exact revenge upon." Prowl told the tape, finally moving away from the monitors. "Meister is just one of the aliases that the particular agent uses."

"Agent Meister is still active then?"

"Very much so."

"And you know who it is."

"I do."

"And," said Rewind with something of a sigh, "You're not going to tell me."

"Of course not." Prowl said in that calm and reasonable tone, "That would be unsafe."

"Will you tell me about the trip to DN3?"

* * *

i1. Myths Every Child Should Know; Mabie, Hamilton Wright 


	2. The Golden Bough

**Cybertron: A Little over Four Million Years Ago**

Prowl was there when the call went out.

Technically, one could say that he was the one who _made_ the call, as it was his hand that controlled the tight beam transmission to every Autobot outpost on or under Cybertron's surface.

The voice and the message, themselves belonged solely to the Autobot's leader, Optimus Prime. Prowl had merely been one of those supporting Prime.

"The energy shortage has reached a critical stage. We must now consider the possibility that we must explore beyond our world in order to find a new source, in order that we may win this war. In order to do this, we must form a unit like none before, both to build the craft to leave this planet, and to crew it on the voyage. I ask only for volunteers, because this is an uncertain mission, we do not know how long it will take in order to find what we need. We must be able to work together to succeed."

As Prime stepped back from the communications console, Prowl watched the panel light up with the incoming messages. A flood almost as fast as the communications expert, Blaster, could handle them. Blinking messages from the far reaches, from the last strategic holdouts and outposts; those who earnestly desired to help the Autobot cause.

"Do you think it will work, Prowl?" Prime asked quietly, his own optics on the lights.

"It is the only logical and feasible way." Prowl told him, curious about the uncertainty that seemed to come out of nowhere. "You are not certain now?"

"I am. I was just wondering if it made sense to you."

"If those who are expected to arrive do so, we should be ready for a launch before the end of the next year." Prowl gave one of those rare smiles to his leader. "And with the way the messages are coming in, we should know within a few hours."

Over the next planetary week, many Autobots started filtering in– appearing at both the gates to Iacon, and at the secret underground entrances. All ready for whatever Prime would call upon them to do.

So few in number, but so stout to the core.

Some Autobots sent messages through those they sent– saying that they would maintain the presence that would keep the Autobot foothold on their own world, even if it was to be a hidden one. Everyone had a role. Not everyone would be chosen.

The task of choosing which volunteers to take was a monumental one.

Prowl was privy to the criteria by which the crew itself was selected– in fact, he and Trailbreaker created most of it at Optimus's order, while the Autobot leader himself went to negotiate with the few remaining neutrals. They needed materials to build the ship. Resources that were guarded by a few who still didn't know which side they wanted to be on.

While Prime and Blaster communicated with the few alien races that Cybertron knew, to obtain the star maps and sensor data that they would need to navigate, the list grew from a handful of names, to a true list. Each autobot was chosen for his strengths and abilities– the most important of which was the ability to work with every other Autobot as a team.

There were a few dynamics that Trailbreaker or Prowl had brought up as potential problems– a few Autobots who occasionally had problems— however, by the end, all three– Prime, Prowl, and Trailbreaker– were certain that the frictions wouldn't cause any major problems to the mission.

The Engineer– Wheeljack– had arrived, as Prowl predicted, blueprints in hand, and a few ready mechs to start the physical construction of the 'Ark' as they had nicknamed it. Wheeljack, despite some past failures, had more successes, and, importantly, the skill to work on the faster than light drive from the sketches given to Prime. He was one of the first on the list.

Ratchet, the medic, had appeared later in that first week– a day and a half later than Prowl had estimated his arrival. There had been some heavy casualties in a minor skirmish in the western cities that had delayed him. The acerbic medic was one of the first people that Prowl had listed. In any operation, a medic would eventually be needed: Ratchet was the best, and most likely to volunteer.

Ironhide had appeared within the first three hours after Optimus's broadcast, and hadn't left the leader's side. The red mech would be good for backing up orders– and his experience would be invaluable. He was the only one who was earlier than expected.

All of the pieces were falling into place: those that Prowl had already counted among the volunteers had arrived, save three. And two of those, at last report, were on the way. The remaining Autobot, however, according to an intelligence report that had been slipped into Iacon with a supply of the metal plating for the ship's hull, was not going to be coming.

According to the report, he had died a few weeks before the broadcast– after a botched intelligence mission to the mines of Cuprahex– at the hands of a Decepticon inquisitor. The loss was significant– many of the Autobots, including Prowl, had known the agent personally– and liked him.

Prowl had just begun to re-evaluate the crew, and to find a replacement, when the last of the expected Autobot volunteers arrived.

"Knock knock, Prowl!" The familiar voice almost made him cringe, while at the same time the realization that his prediction of the arrival time of this particular pair had been dead on. To the minute.

"Hey, Prowl? Aren't ya glad to see us?" The pair of red and yellow mechs crowded into the small office where he and Trailbreaker had been discussing the possible replacements. Names were entered. Names were crossed off.

"I was expecting the two of you about two vorn ago." Prowl answered, setting the data tablet back onto the table. "You're the last two positions to be filled, aside from the helmsman."

Trailbreaker snickered quietly across the table at Prowl's little fib. Prowl had told him these two would be the last. He was fairly certain that there would be credits changing hands somewhere tonight.

"We're not the last?" Sideswipe said, elbowing his brother, and ignoring the complaining scowl. "I toldja we could stop t'see Jazz again, and not be late."

"You haven't been told then," Prowl shook his head, as Trailbreaker's laughter died away. "A mission went wrong– he's–"

"In a little city on the Tagan Heights, getting his fender fixed, when we left him." Sunstreaker said briefly, "Three days ago."

Prowl heard Trailbreaker hit the comlink, to locate Prime.

"Three days ago?"

"Yeah," put in Sideswipe. "The only thing about him that's dead is his sense of humor."

"Go report to Ironhide," Prowl told them sparing a glance for Trailbreaker, "He will show you where to stow your gear."

"...Without the computer system to guide them, I'm afraid the Ark won't be going anywhere– the calculations are just too astronomical for any one mech to keep track of, and still be able to maintain the engines." Wheeljack paused, as he caught a glimpse of Prowl and Trailbreaker in the doorway.

Optimus Prime followed the direction of Wheeljack's gaze, then nodded for him to continue.

"Xaus in DN3 is the best AI programmer I know. He has his entire lab wired up on one system– everything is controlled by his Teletran program."

"And you think he would produce something like that for us?" Prime asked, steepling his hands in front of his mask.

"I know he would, actually. I talked to him before I got here." answered the engineer. "And I just got a message from him yesterday, to say that he'd finished it."

"Is he going to bringing it to Iacon soon then?" The Autobot leader leaned forward, Prowl noticed silently. At least something seemed to be going their way.

"That's the problem." Wheeljack said with a sigh.

"What do you mean?"

"Problem?" queried Prowl.

"That's the whole reason I'm talkin' to you today. The Decepticons have been crackin' down on the surrounding region." Wheeljack made a frustrated gesture, his head-lights blinking furiously, "Xaus can't get out. He just barely managed to get word out to me through a few suppliers."

"And we just lost the only agent who knows that area, and has contacts in that region of Cybertron..." Optimus said slowly, with the a tone that Prowl recognized as resignation.

"That would be why we are here Optimus." Prowl said quickly, "We have just received some new information. He's alive, but..."

"Alive?" Hope rekindled. "That's good news. But why wouldn't he contact us, and let us know?"

"The report said that he was getting repaired in an area around Tagan Heights. And that he wasn't planning on coming this way any time soon." Trailbreaker put in mildly.

Optimus Prime sat quietly, thinking for a moment, as Prowl watched, waiting for the words he knew were inevitable. Trailbreaker and Wheeljack just looked at each other, and shrugged.

"If he won't come to us, then we'll have to go to him. Prowl, we'll leave in an hour."

"Of course, Optimus. And we will be keeping this as low key as possible."

"Yes." Prime looked up at the other pair in the room. "No one else is to know that we're gone. If all goes well... we will be back before anyone notices."

**

* * *

**

**Rhodex: Tagan Heights**

All things considered, it wasn't difficult to find Jazz. Probably because he wasn't trying to hide from anyone. If he were trying to hide, Prowl knew that they could have searched the heights for centuries, and found only rumors of his passing– or even no trace at all. Jazz had become very skillful in covering his tracks over the past millenia.

As it turned out, Jazz had been anticipating their arrival.

As Prowl entered the small repair bay in Rhodex– two steps behind Prime– he glanced over the three tables filled with damaged mechs, and the counters with the sparse spare parts with a reserved and assessing gaze. Most of these mechs had seen action fairly recently– the odor of plasma-burned paint still lingered in the air.

A pair of medics struggled to repair one of the worst of the casualties in the far side of the room.

Prowl didn't see Jazz at first. There was no sign of the white and black mech on any of the tables. Nor did Prime, apparently, as he took another step in, before stopping short, a puzzled look on his face.

The strategist took another look around the room, his gaze finally falling upon one of the medics. The shape was familiar, though this mech bore a completely black paint scheme. That would be why he'd missed it at first. He had made the mistake of looking for the normal white coloration.

As though feeling the gaze, the black painted mech turned his head to acknowledge their presence with a calm– and unsurprised– blue visored gaze. A faint smile briefly crossed his uncharacteristically sober face.

Jazz.

He wasn't, Prowl realized after a moment, doing much other than handing over parts and tools that were needed. Jazz was acting as a sort of assistant to the actual medic.

Prowl touched Prime's arm, to get his attention, then jerked his head towards the far corner, watching as the leader finally realized what he was seeing.

"Be right with ya." Jazz called, then turned his attention back to the medic– conferring with the other in low tones.

"I didn't expect anything like this." Prime said quietly.

There was nothing to do but wait now.

Neither of the mechs seemed inclined to hurry with the repairs. Glancing at the closest battle damaged chassis, neither Prime nor Prowl was inclined to rush them.

An hour passed.

The two Autobots remained standing uncomfortably next to the entrance, until finally–

"C'mon in here– Aid said we can use his office while he's off rechargin'." Jazz was limping towards them at last.

The twins hadn't been lying about him being here for repairs. Even with four days of recuperating time, it seemed that all the kinks hadn't been worked out of the systems. Black paint aside, something about Jazz seemed out of place.

Jazz ignored their pointed looks, as he led them into the small office.

"What are you still doing here, Jazz?" Prime asked, as they sat in the uncomfortable space.

"Nice t'see you too, Prime." Jazz sat in the extra chair with a grunt. "I'm payin' off m'repair bill."

"We got word that you were dead." Prowl offered.

"I got better. Just sorry ya had t'waste a trip out here t'see me, 'cause whatever it is, I ain't goin'. Not this time."

"Jazz–" Started the Autobot leader.

"Ya heard me. I'm... quittin'. Givin' up."

Prowl suddenly realized what the detail was that had been bothering him. There was no brand on Jazz, only a smooth coat of black paint, where once the Autobot symbol had been.

"May I ask why?" Prowl asked quietly in the shocked silence that had fallen.

"Ya can." Jazz said, picking at a scratch, not looking up at them.

"Then... why?"

"I'm tired, Prowl. Th'last mission..." Jazz glanced up at Prime, "Th'last mission went bust 'cause I made one too many mistakes. Almost didn' make it back."

"You've gone through odds like that before– and no one is perfect." Prime was probably frowning behind the mask, Prowl decided. "What made this different?"

"M'inside agent turned me in." Jazz was looking up now, a curiously bitter twist to his mouth. "I'm not even sure how I made it outta there."

"So you're just going to sit in Rhodex, and play assistant to that medic, until the Decepticons raze all the neutral cities?"

Jazz shifted uncomfortably.

"Aid patched me back t'gether–" Jazz said, "I owe him fer that, at least."

"We have several candidates to take your place on the Ark mission," said Prowl. "However..."

"However we have no one else who can get in and out of DN3 without triggering alerts right now." Prime finished.

"There is, of course, Chimera." Prowl could see a wavering concern in the dark mech's face, despite the visor that covered his optics.

"Chimera's too new. She's too rash an' impulsive– "

"So were you when you started." Prime pointed out, "But without Xaus's program, we don't have a functional ship– We have no choice." Prime rose, and turned to the door.

Prowl rose to follow.

"Wait." Prowl looked back at the indecision written on the agent's face. "One last mission, and nothin' more?"

"Will you do it?"

"I will go as backup, if you wish." Prowl found himself offering. He didn't usually act so impulsively– but this was an unusual situation.

"It's that important." murmured the dark mech, sounding more like his old self, "Jus'... give me a bit t' break it ta Aid."

**

* * *

**

Data Node 3

The trip to DN3 was, in perspective, moderately uneventful. It wasn't a walk in and out by anymeans. The few patrols that Jazz and Prowl encountered were easily evaded, despite the obvious stiffness in the special ops agent's joints. Jazz still wasn't completely adjusted to some repair or another, even if he had insisted that everything was fine.

If he'd had to hazard a guess at the extent of damage with which Rhodex's medic had had to repair, Prowl would have guessed that there had been a major rebuild involved. And even if Aid had been as skillful as Ratchet...

Jazz wasn't talking about it– yet.

And Prowl was beginning to think that using another agent would have been a wiser courseof action– and just as effective. It wasn't because he was doubting the difficulty of what they were doing. He was more concerned that Jazz might not be able to handle everything that could happen in the field right now.

Ducking another patrol, they approached the low slung spires of the Decahedron district, where, according to Wheeljack, Xaus had his main laboratory. Jazz pulled Prowl into an alley that seemed a bit too narrow to hold one mech, let alone two.

"There's a way inta the buildin' from here." He said in a hushed tone. "Jus' gotta wait a minute so the patrol don't catch us."

Prowl's expression didn't change as he looked at the narrow alley. He saw no access hatches, nor holes, nor anything that indicated a way out, other than the way they'd entered. A pair of jets flew over, search lights randomly picking out the darkened corners of the city. Fortunately there was enough of an overhang that the white of Prowl's chassis remained in the dark.

"I don't see any–"

Jazz just grinned, and pointed upwards, as the roar of the patrol's engines faded in the distance.

There was a light near the top of the spire. Even as low as the building was, it would take them a few hours to climb the building.

"It will take a while to get there. Do you think the patrol will be gone long enough for us to climb that far?"

"Nah," Jazz shook his head, "Ain't gonna take that long. Jus' hang on to me."

"Hang on to–" The hand pointing upwards retracted into subspace, replaced by a grappling hook. "Oh."

"Can't say I didn' get ya there in style." Jazz quipped, firing the mechanism off at a point just above the light. Clink. He tested the line with a sharp tug. "Hang on. It's a li'l faster than the lift."

Prowl just shut his optics, and hung on.

The lab was only a short distance away in the darkened corridors. Confidence was growing– there was no one around to stop them from getting to their goal.

Jazz, however, seemed hesitant at the shadowy walk.

"Almost there." Prowl encouraged, "We should be safe once we get inside the lab. Xaus will be waiting."

"Somethin' ain't right..."

"There is no logical reason for them to think that we would be here. It's just a corridor–"

"When will you ever learn to trust instinct over logic, Autobot?" The voice behind them was feminine and unfamiliar. "Hello, Jazz. You're looking much better than the last time I saw you."

"Symphony..." In the dim lights of the corridor, Prowl saw the expression on the black mech's face change from wary to neutral, even as the alarm rose within his own mind. "How did ya find out about..."

"I have my ways." The seeker-jet stepped out of the shadows, as both Autobots turned. "You should really be more careful with that grappling hook. You almost hit the security grid."

"An' we all know ya wouldn't have wanted t'share the fun." Careful neutrality made the voice seem oddly flat. "So ya wanna go fer round two? I'm on to ya this time."

The black and gold seeker stared at Jazz with a carefully blank look for a moment, before chuckling. Symphony did not even move as the black mech's gun appeared in his hand in a flash of subspace energy.

"I see. And you're not even going to bother introducing me to your friend this time?"

"Prowl. Symphony. Symphony. Prowl. Introductions are done. Ya wanna give me a real good reason why I shouldn't jus' shoot ya now, an' have done with it?"

"Because the electronic surveillance in this area has been jammed, and you only have five minutes to get to Xaus's lab before the cameras reset themselves?"

Prowl blinked. The gun wavered, but did not lower.

"An' why should I believe you this time?"

Prowl frowned, glancing towards the lab door.

"Because, my dear Meister, it was your idea to get me in this deep."

"If she is telling the truth, we only have four more minutes." Prowl reasoned. "Jazz?"

"Xaus is waiting." said the femme, starting to walk around them. "I didn't expect to have this conversation, else I would have done something a little more permanent to those cameras."

Jazz nodded slowly, starting to follow, though Prowl noted that he didn't put the gun away yet. With a shake of his head, he followed them to the lab.

* * *

The lab was immaculate.

A fairly large set of rooms, the lab stretched out from the doorway in a stark and sterile imitation of a large computer bank. Only on a large scale. In the center, an older grey robot sat at a circular station, looking from one side to another at the screens that surrounded him. On the clear space beside him sat a small box.

"They have arrived, Xaus." Symphony called. "Are you ready?"

"Teletran One is nearly ready for transport." came the reply, as Xaus reached over to key something into the console. The door locked behind the trio, and Prowl spun to stare at it. Was this a trap? "Can't have any interruptions." The explanation came a moment later.

"Symphony?"

"This isn't a trap.You can put your gun away– for now."

"What did ya mean... it was my idea?"

"I think that last blow must have damaged you worse than I had intended." Symphony glanced at Prowl. "You need someone close enough to keep tabs on things. I volunteered. 'Killing' you was the most effective way for me to prove my loyalty, so that I could get in good with the guard..." she stopped. "You really don't remember, do you." Statement of fact. Not question, Prowl noticed, as he stepped over to look at the screens that Xaus was using.

"She'll keep me safe," Xaus said quietly, as the other conversation grew quieter. "There is much I still need to do here– "

"You aren't coming?"

"As I explained to Wheeljack– I cannot leave Teletran to fall into the hands of the Decepticons– and my work– my life is here." The sober gray face looked up at Prowl with a tinge of regret in his optics. "I could not smuggle Teletran One out of the city on my own, so I went along with his idea that I would be leaving as well."

"And the Decepticon?"

"Symphony... will keep me from their prying optics– she is one of yours." Xaus smiled, touching another key, then detached the wires that Prowl hadn't seen connecting the box to the console. "I am finished. Symphony will take care of the cameras, so that you may leave."

Prowl took the box from Xaus's hands, and looked up to find Jazz and Symphony waiting by the door. Jazz had put away the gun, at last.

The old grin was back on Jazz's face, as though it had never left.

**

* * *

**

The Ark: 2000 CE

"It isn't a very exciting story, I know. You see– there's really not much more to it than what was covered in the report." Prowl said, "And some of the details can never be told."

"So... did Meister join the crew after he decided to rejoin the Autobots, or did he just... vanish into the night again?"

Prowl only gave Rewind one of those rare little smiles as a response.

"Oh... right. Not safe." Rewind admitted with a soft chuckle. "Sometimes curiosity overwhelms common sense. But it's still interesting how there seems to be a parallel between the ancient earth story and what happened on Cybertron."

"A coincidence, nothing more."

"There was a set of twins on the Argo." Rewind glanced at the screen in front of him. "And there seem to be a few references to other Earth cultures having myths with twins in them..."

"True– however we crashed long before the humans emerged, and awakened long after they had built their own stories."

"Still, I wonder..."

The door opened and closed behind them, admitting an aura of sound. Rewind only knew of two mechs who would have something like that– and one of them had gone out the tunnel.

"Hi, Blaster." Rewind said, as he turned around.

Prowl looked over Rewind's head to nod.

"Hey guys– hope ya aren't buggin' Prowl too much, Rewind." Rewind gave Prowl a guilty look.

"No. He's not." Prowl gave the large red boxy Autobot a measured look. "He has come up with a few interesting points of research. Is there something I can help you with?"

"I was just lookin' for Jazz. I need to talk to him about some of the encoding for the communications relay."

"He went for a drive. He should be back soon."

As though waiting for the cue, Teletran One made an odd beep, and spoke.

"Incoming transmission from Jazz." It announced, and immediately brought up the broadcast.

"Spotted a couple o' flyboys headed towards the Lakes Region power grid." Jazz's familiar voice filled the room. "I'm keepin' an optic on 'em, but if ya don't mind, I could prolly use some backup."

"Sunstreaker and Sideswipe are on patrol nearby. I will direct them to your location." Prowl moved to the console to respond, and tap another frequency to the twins.

"Thanks, man. I 'preciate–"

The transmission cut off in a burst of noisy static that made even Blaster cringe.

"Jazz? Jazz!"

**

* * *

**

Earth Orbit

The Earth was a stunning jewel in the cosmos. A planet rich in energy sources, and full of organic life. A rare treasure to be viewed. And Soundwave was tired of looking at it spinning innocently through the satellite's viewports.

Soundwave was more inclined to think of the planet as a means to an end, rather than an artistic gem, even as he watched the locator signals home in on one of the more isolated power plants in the western section of the continent known as 'North America'.

He doubted that the fools had even thought of the danger of striking a facility so close to the normal range of the Autobots. Soundwave wouldn't question Megatron's orders, however he could, and would, silently question the wisdom of letting the trio of seekers choose their own target.

It wouldn't take long for the Autobots to pick up on the Decepticon presence in the area, and battle would ensue– and all for what? A minuscule amount of energon.

He would inevitably have to bail them out, Soundwave realized with the tiniest fraction of a sigh. Carefully he set the controls to the satellite base on automatic, and prepared himself the journey.


	3. In the Skies, and on the land

**South Central Oregon: 2000 CE**

In a battle, the tiniest details can sometimes be the thing that is the longest remembered, even after the fires are extinguished, and the damage is repaired. Sounds become muted into a kind of personal tunnel, where the sole focus becomes survival– dodge one more missile, fire one more shot in the hopes that it will be the last one needed to make the tunnel go away again.

The sound of energy weapons, as they rip through the atmosphere is the molecules screaming in protest as they are roughly shoved aside– or obliterated. The noise echoes in the dark of the mind's eye for as long as memory remains.

Rewind wasn't sure why he'd asked to go along, when Prowl had set Blaster to help Teletran One figure out why Jazz's transmission had been cut off. More surprising was Prowl's nod, accepting the tape's offer of aid.

By the time Rewind and Prowl arrived on the scene, the red and yellow brothers were in that tunnel. Each covering the other in the deadly dance of battle. One fired, nudging the other to move as a beam of energy ricocheted over his head.

The pair of jets took another run over the pair, as they stood back to back, then side by side, fighting on. Their voices were audible over the sound of the battle, but it wasn't until Rewind was closer that he could actually hear what they were yelling.

The twins were arguing. Again.

"So what, you slagging retro-rat minded garbage bot! Look to your left!" Rewind heard Sunstreaker call, as he took a shot at the green seeker jet strafing the area.

"Go jump in a smelter, Sunshine–" Sideswipe nearly walked into a laser blast, but jumped back at the last minute, almost tripping over an outcropping.

"Other left, half-volt!"

"You mean RIGHT! Get it straight, you ornamental piece of yellow scrap!" Sideswipe took a moment to glance over at the yellow Autobot, firing over his head.

"You're just jealous I can still tag 'em twice without reloading–"

"Never been jealous of that– 'cause my score's still higher than yours."

"That's a laugh– Duck."

Sideswipe ducked a fraction too late and the missile scraped down the length of his arm, from shoulder to hand, making a mess of the armor plating, before impacting in the ground in front of him. It detonated, throwing him backwards.

"Sideswipe!" Sunstreaker aimed his fury towards the source of the missile, "Slagging Con!"

"I'm okay, Sunny–"

"Then get your shiny red spoiler back up and prove it!" Sunstreaker snarled, ducking another attack.

Prowl cut loose with a few shots as he transformed and sprinted the short distance towards the twin still struggling to get up.

"Where's Jazz?" Rewind heard Prowl asking, as the tape followed, trying to find a clear shot on the jets zipping overhead.

Oddly enough, Sideswipe just pointed upwards with his good arm, as he got back to his feet.

* * *

In retrospect, it really wasn't the best idea that Jazz had ever had.

Actually, to be honest with himself, Jazz realized it wasn't even close to the dumbest thing he'd ever done– it was far, far worse.

As he clung to the canopy of the F-15 fighter jet, while it careened through the clouds, Jazz fought that little instinct to look down towards the ground. Even as he tried to free his grappling hook from where it had gotten warped around a strut in the jet's shattered cockpit he was well aware of the precariousness of his situation.

A flash of red and yellow far below distracted him for a moment– Jazz hoped the twins were having better luck than he was.

Thundercracker banked sharply, trying to dislodge the unwanted hitchiker, but Jazz only tightened his grip on the jet's wing.

"No matter how much ya try, y'ain't gonna be able t'get rid of me by doin' that." He chided the Decepticon. The speed at which Thundercracker was going meant that the likelihood of being heard was very low. The words were more than likely lost in the rush of wind and clouds as they screamed through the sky.

The first shot that Thundercracker had fired had fried the Autobot's radio, so there was no way for Jazz to tell the pain blinded jet that there was no use in trying any of these fancy moves to throw him off. He was, in a word, stuck.

Jazz didn't know how Sunstreaker and Sideswipe managed to perform maneuvers like this on a semi-regular basis; this was turning out to be one of the roughest rides of his life. He tried to adjust his grip on the wing, but slipped.

The Decepticon felt the slip, and did a full barrel roll, knocking Jazz from his perch, and the Autobot started to fall. Only to be brought up short by the short length of cable that he'd been unable to retract when the other pair, seeing Thundercracker's predicament, had started to fire at him. Unfortunately, their efforts had only ensured that the grappling hook had become fused inside the cockpit.

Thundercracker continued his incoherent yelling, as he banked again. He only managed to slam the dangling Autobot against his own frame– making Jazz wince with each blow. Jazz felt, rather than heard the rending crack as steel-glass and metal rendered fragile from the repeated wash of plasma bursts give way.

"Ya really –Ow– should stop — Ooof– 'fore you–"

Crunch.

A piece of the battered F-15's left flap was sheered away, and sailed end over end towards the ground below– about half a mile back. It disappeared, as Thundercracker started shuddering, going into an uncontrolled spin, and spiraled towards an isolated patch of forest, and a speck that looked like a human residence.

Wings started clipping trees as the canopy strut gave way.

Jazz grabbed at the closest wing, ignoring the battering branches that were finding cracks, and getting caught.

"Pull up! Pull up or yer gonna hit th' house–" he yelled, not really sure if he should hope that he could be heard.

Some of what Jazz was yelling must have penetrated Thundercracker's haze, because he started to obey– but a little too late. The extra weight and excessive velocity only allowed him to pull up enough so that he only caught the top of the roof.

Thundercracker flipped in midair, bouncing twice before landing flatly in a stand of trees a few hundred feet behind the house.

Jazz felt the impact of the ground, then... nothing at all.

* * *

The door to the house flew open, and out flew a small statuesque woman, cell phone in hand. Shingles slid down the side of the house, obeying gravity, to land at her feet. Her gaze followed the path of destruction. Staring at the wreckage in her backyard, her mouth opened. Then closed.

She raised the phone to her ear.

"Yeah... this is Carrie. Uh... I'm going to be late. Yeah. A jet just clipped my house, and crashed in my backyard."

The jet groaned, and transformed into a robot. Stood. Then promptly fell over again.

"Uh. Huh." Carrie said. "Make that... giant robots. No, I have NOT been drinking. Just— I'll call you later."

**

* * *

**

In Orbit

The satellite's tracking system silently watched as one of the locator signals winked then went out. Dumbly, it relayed the loss of signal towards the recently departed commander, and went back to tracking the remaining signals.

**

* * *

**

South Central Oregon

The sky was a faint blue, like a cobalt solution with intermittent clouds of a white vapor,

looking oddly like fluffy bits of spun fiber insulation floating in the sky. A kind of sky that most human children would use as an afternoon's entertainment. Rewind wasn't looking for unusual cloud formations, however. He was trying to puzzle out why Sideswipe was pointing up. As far as he knew, Jazz couldn't fly.

That's why Rewind was the first one to notice the boxy dark blue shape in the distance. From the angle, it was obvious that Soundwave was not just out on some random patrol– he was headed straight for the fight.

"We have more company," Rewind warned Prowl in calm tones.

The white Autobot turned from steadying Sideswipe, to see the Decepticon communicator arriving.

"This is... not good," Prowl muttered, trying to contact Blaster for more backup. Rewind himself could tell it wasn't working. Soundwave was already jamming all transmissions in the area.

Sideswipe raised his gun, taking a shot at one of the jets as it swooped low. A stream of smoke started trailing away as the aircraft rose again, circling the vacant lot that had become their battlefield.

"Got 'im!" The excited red mech said with a smirk at his brother.

"About time," grumbled Sunstreaker, "You've only been shooting at him for the past twenty minutes."

"Stuff it, Sunshine. You've got incoming."

Sunstreaker crouched and launched a missile towards the second jet. It exploded harmlessly in the clouds above, while the jet reappeared a few meters to the left, still screaming towards the Autobots on the ground.

"Decepticons. Retreat now." The words cut through the air clearly, as though Soundwave were standing next to them. "You are outmatched. Retreat, and regroup back at base."

Even Prowl looked surprised at the order.

The twins looked at each other, just before Sideswipe lurched, and nearly fell over.

**

* * *

**

The Ark's Bridge

The cassette watched and waited with a patience won only through practice.

With Prowl gone, Laserbeak had hoped that Blaster's attention would waver. And afford him the opportunity he had been waiting for. Unfortunately, it looked as though the communications guru was focused on the task that had been set to him– which means that he and Teletran One were both alert right now.

"Prowl? Prowl, can ya read me?" Laserbeak watched as Blaster tried to establish a radio link to the commander. "Prowl– ya got incoming!"

The radar signals on the map screen started converging.

"Aww, man... this ain't good. Teletran– can ya patch through the local satellite, and maybe cut down on twelve and sixteen megahertz–"

"Acknowledged. Interference on that channel appears to be local communications service."

_...a jet just clipped my house and crashed in my backyard... _

_A jet, Ookay..._

_Uh... make that... giant robots._

_Giant robots? Uh. Starting the weekend early, aren't you?_

_No, I have NOT been drinking...Just– I'll call you later_

_Wait, Ca–_

"Teletran– trace that call!" Blaster frowned, hitting a few more keys "Prowl! Are ya still there man?"

"Yes, Blaster, I hear you. Soundwave ordered a retreat– Jazz is still missing though. Can you run a trace on his radio locator?"

"I'm tryin' Prowl, but if he got a direct hit to his radio systems, it's probably fried with the rest."

"That is quite likely. Sunstreaker said that he could not establish radio communications with Jazz when they arrived."

"What happened?" Blaster started doing something that Laserbeak couldn't quite see.

"Apparently Jazz was... hitching a ride on Thundercracker. When they arrived, Thundercracker had taken him up fairly high, and transformed. They saw him start to fall, and then stop– the other Decepticons started firing on Jazz, and ended up hitting Thundercracker. Then they realized that Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were firing on them, so they lost track." Prowl sounded, to Laserbeak's amusement, quite annoyed. "Sideswipe is going to need transport back to the Ark."

Teletran One made a sound, gaining Blaster's attention.

"We got a report of a jet crashin' about 200 miles southwest of your location."

"Thundercracker?"

"Sounds like it. Want me to rouse Ratchet, and send him to meet you?"

"Excellent idea. We don't know what we will find– I will send Rewind back with Sideswipe."

"Yeah. He doesn't need to see it, if it's as bad as I'm thinkin' it will be. I'll let you know if I find anything else."

"Thank you."

Laserbeak waited for Blaster to rise to get Ratchet, but was disappointed when the red mech merely used a radio signal to contact the medic. Then settled back to continue to try and trace the vague cell phone conversation that he'd picked up from the satellite. Laserbeak settled back to continue his vigil.

**

* * *

**

South Central Oregon

"Rewind, wait here with Sideswipe, until we can get him a lift back to the Ark. Sunstreaker and I are going to see if we can find Jazz."

"Sunny's up to it, and so'm I." Protested Sideswipe.

Prowl stepped back as he started to receive open communications lines with Teletran One and Blaster. Rewind found himself, for the moment, alone with the Ark's most notorious duo.

"You're hurt, bro, and about ready to drop." Sunstreaker said with a narrow look at his twin. Sideswipe looked as though he were about to argue. "You can't lie to me, Swipe. You know that."

Sideswipe tilted his head, giving his brother a matching glare.

"Yes, I'm tired too, but I didn't have a missile rip my arm open. You stay here with Rewind."

It's not that bad– really, Sunny."

"Last time you said that, I ended up having to carry you back." Sunstreaker said evenly. "You dinged my paint with all your flailing around."

Sideswipe just glared at Sunstreaker for a moment, then his entire frame seemed to sag.

"Blaster's picked up a local report of a jet crashing to the southwest." Prowl returned with the same solemn look as he had left with. "If they've picked that up, so have the Decepticons."

"Crash?" Sideswipe looked at Prowl in alarm. "Slaggit–"

"Ratchet's on his way. We don't know what we'll find yet. Teletran One lost locator contact with Jazz when his radio went out."

Sunstreaker said a few words about Thundercracker that Rewind couldn't quite catch– but the tone said enough. Though in the next moment the larger yellow mech had stepped forward to catch Sideswipe by the good elbow.

"For cryin' out loud, Sideswipe, sit down."

Surprisingly, Sideswipe obeyed, sitting abruptly on the outcropping he'd nearly tripped over during the fight. Sunstreaker held onto the arm for another minute to make sure that his brother didn't fall over, then stepped away.

"Let me know the minute you find him." the red terror demanded.

"Yeah, you'll be the first– you know that." Sunstreaker clapped a hand onto his brother's shoulder, just looking down at him for a moment.

"Let's get moving." Prowl interrupted, transforming. "The sooner we find the crash site, the better."

With a last smirk at Sideswipe, Sunstreaker ran to catch up with Prowl, transforming into his vehicle mode. The pair sped off in a cloud of dust, leaving Rewind to stand awkwardly near the much larger warrior.

**

* * *

**

In Orbit

It was a rundown piece of floating debris, trapped in a spiraling orbit around the planet. The ancient looking satellite hung like a warped and broken ornament in the skies, on invisible strings. It almost reeked of decay and disrepair.

And yet it was the most welcome sight that Skywarp had seen all day. He almost asked for permission to teleport directly inside to the minuscule repair bay, when he remembered the undertones with which Soundwave had ordered the retreat.

Not a good idea to call attention to himself right now, better leave that to someone else.

Skywarp frowned inwardly.

Thundercracker hadn't responded to the order, nor was he responding to any subsequent radio messages. It was almost as though he had been deactivated.

It wasn't as though they had abandoned him to his fate, Skywarp argued with himself, even if they had wanted to, after the Lamborghini twins had arrived, they'd been hard pressed to make sure that Sideswipe hadn't had a chance to use his rocket pack, lest they, like him, find a difficult to get rid of Autobot strapped to their back.

The echo of the scream still echoed in his audials.

Thundercracker had taken the white Autobot up as far as he could, then transformed, so that the white and black Autobot hadn't been able to hold onto him, letting him fall before transforming into jet mode to take off.

Skywarp had watched the panicked Autobot falling– and then something unexpected. He supposed they all should have remembered _which_ Autobot they were dealing with. Jazz, it was always noted in the files, had a slew of skills and tools at his disposal, and could be expected to pull things out at the last possible minute, when things looked the worst for him. Like now.

The Autobot's right hand shimmered, vanished, and was replaced by a grappling hook, and launched towards Thundercracker– who had barely finished transforming back into F-15 mode. The hook caught him in the canopy, and the Decepticon had screamed.

Both Skywarp and their third had fired– some shots glancing off of the Autobot as he pulled himself up by the near-invisible cable– and one or two had gone astray and hit their comerade. They'd had no time for anything after that; everything dissolved into that hazy tunnel, as the Autobot twins had arrived and begun to harry them.

And in the tunnel, no other sound mattered than the rush of the wind.

Not even the howling yells of a wounded Decepticon who might be called a friend.

All that mattered were the bright and dark mechs who were firing on him from the ground, singing his wings before he could teleport out of the way.

Nothing else.

Vaguely through the fighter's tunnel, Skywarp had heard the sound of engines fading in the distance.

"Inside. Now." The words echoed inside Skywarp's head as Soundwave operated the airlock with a short radio signal. Soundwave's arrival had been welcome in a way, but now– Skywarp was not looking forward to the consequences.

**

* * *

**

South Central Oregon

Rewind looked at Sideswipe, watching the fighter keep looking towards the direction that his brother and Prowl had driven off towards, then back at him. And the tape continued to pace, reviewing data that had little to nothing to do with the awkward situation he found himself in right now.

Silence.

"So... Shortstack..."

"Rewind."

"Whatever... you wanna sit down? You're makin' me dizzy, just watching you."

"Sorry." Rewind found a spot somewhere near Sideswipe, and sat down. "Better?"

"Yeah." Sideswipe stopped looking at the road, and peered down at the tape with a measuring gaze. "What made you come out here?"

"Curiosity. I wanted to help." Rewind didn't flinch at the look, which seemed to make the red mech happy.

Sideswipe grunted almost approvingly, and went back to watching the road.

"You and your brother keep score?" Rewind broke the silence this time.

Yeah. So?"

"Why?"

"Old habit." Sideswipe shrugged, then winced as he jarred the injured arm.

"I see." said Rewind with a thoughtful air.

"See what?" The frown was back, and so was the hot blue gaze.

"You're from Kaon, aren't you? Gladiatorial games?" Rewind found himself asking, almost without thinking. He could have found the information by checking with Teletran One, but somehow it seemed more right to just ask this time.

"What of it?" A suspicious surprise flooded the larger Autobot's features.. "Who told you that? Jazz?"

"Just a guess, I've barely had time too talk to anyone." the tape replied calmly, ignoring the suspicion. "What's it like?"

"What?"

"Being a twin."

"Oh." Sideswipe gave him a halfhearted shrug that didn't involve the use of his right arm. "It's... hard to explain. Why?"

"I keep seeing twins as a recurring theme in some of the stories that Teletran One has picked up. Would you like to hear one?" Blaster's archivist tape reviewed the one that had been shown to him. "It might help to pass the time."

Sideswipe's optics narrowed, then a grin spread across his face.

"Why not?"

_**

* * *

In the beginnings of time, before humans were even created, there lived another race.**_

_**Among the people of this race, were a special pair of twins, who were skilled at all the traditional arts, and most especially at the traditional ball game of their people. The twins were so close, that one could not be found without the other. They were, however, competitive in all things, and the game was no exception.**_

_**While playing the game they were loud– yelling their skill, and yelling their joy. They were so loud, in fact, that noise reached into the underground caves of Xibalba, and echoed off of the walls, until the old gods themselves were annoyed. **_

_**Then the old gods sent for the brothers, challenging them to a game. **_

_**The brothers accepted this challenge, knowing no better, and went to Xibalba to meet the challenge of the gods.**_

_**The old gods manipulated the game, however, so that the brothers lost. And even worse, they killed the twins, and hung the head of one on a tree of gourds with human faces outside the caves.**_

_**Now, curiosity is something that the young have in abundance, and the young goddess Xquic was no exception. Intrigued by the story, she came to view the strange fruit of the gourd tree, and as she viewed it, the mouth opened, and spit into her hand. She immediately concieved and bore the twins Xbalanque and Hunahpu, sons of a bodiless head.**_

_**These new twins grew at an unnatural rate, and when they were grown, as their father and uncle before them, they were skilled at all things, and most especially the traditional ball game. Like their father and uncle, they were rarely to be found one without the other, and like their father and uncle before them, they shouted loudly while playing the game.**_

_**And like those who came before, the echo reached the underworld. The old gods were angered yet again– and invited these two to play against the might of the gods, as their father had done before them.**_

_**Remembering how their father had been manipulated and tricked, the twins were able to defeat the old gods at their own game. However, they were killed anyhow, and their bones were thrown into the river. **_

_**It did not take long, however, before they were reincarnated as travelling entertainers, and visited the old gods in Xiabalba once again. They performed songs, and dances for the old gods, and at the end, a magic trick, wherein Xbalanque beheaded his twin, and then restored him to life.**_

_**Amused by the trick, the old gods demanded that it be performed upon them as well. Each wanting to be the first to be beheaded, and restored. The twins were only too happy to oblige them, and beheaded each and every one of the old gods.**_

_**And once the last head was removed, and the clamor came to restore them, the brothers refused to restore them to life. In this way, the old gods were defeated, and removed. And the world became safe for a new race to be born.**_

_**The human race.**_

_**Xbalanque and Hunahpu rose from the caves of the underworld, and took their place in the sky as the sun and the moon– a gift to those who were yet to be born.**_

* * *

"Humans have ... very odd stories." Sideswipe said as the story ended. "None of them could actually go through all that. It's not like they're as tough as we are."

"So I've noticed." Rewind stood again, kicking a small rock around. "That wasn't one of the strangest I found so far– but it's pretty close."

"... odd though." Sideswipe was watching the pacing again, and not complaining this time.

"What is?"

"Nah. It's nothing. Just reminded me of some stuff that happened a long time ago in Kaon. Without all that dyin' stuff. Or the gods."

"Would you tell me about it?" Rewind tried not to sound too hopeful.

"Why?" Suspicion.

"I'm interested? Besides, have you got anything better to do while we wait to hear from Prowl and Sunstreaker?"

Sideswipe was silent for a moment.

"I guess I could. Sunny could tell you some of the details bettern' me though."

"I don't mind." Rewind said, settling himself down to listen. "Sometimes the details get in the way.


	4. SunTwin and MoonTwin

There was not a time that either could remember when the other did not exist. And for that short time, they had been together.

One shining.

One reflecting.

One reaching for the light of the golden sun– the light that made his golden coat glimmer like the sun itself.

The other reaching for the deep red of the moons in shadow, where he could hide the deep scarlet of his own coloring.

They had been created together as two, and yet, their minds– their very cores were forged as one.

From the earliest days, there had been fights about petty things; which had come online first, which one was the brighter of the pair. Petty things, that never interfered with the purpose with which their creator had instilled in them from the time before their bodies were formed.

Both of them were created for battle.

**

* * *

**

Kaon Arena 15:** Millions of years ago**

: 

The nearby stars were high and bright in mid-cycle. The crowds placed their bets, cheered, and rose in their seats as the current favorites entered from the low slung doors to the underground habitats where the gladiators lived.

Of course, the current favored competitors had to take a bow– then show off a few moves here and there. As slaves, this was the only moment of freedom that they really had to express themselves in public. The airborne forms rose, nearly to the force-barrier over the top of the stadium, and crossed each other, in one of the narrow misses that could make a crowd ooh and ahh.

At a signal, the latest opponents for these favored slaves of Kaon were released. And the crowd turned. No cheering. Only the occasional jeer of disapproval as the land-bound red and yellow figures entered the arena. No uncertainty in their step. No fear on their faces. Neither seemed to notice the crowd.

Actually, they seemed to arguing.

"Won't work, you dim-volt."The words echoed up from the arena on the sound-system that had been especially enhanced to hear every cry and scream of plasma on metal. "It's impossible to pull off."

"You got a better plan, ya slaggin' day-glo ornamental piece of scrap?" The pair seemed oblivious to the fact that their voices were now echoing through the arena. "Or are you just gonna start praying now?"

"Maybe." the answer echoed from the speakers.

As though answering a silent signal, the oddly shaped jets started to make their first attack run. It just wasn't seemly that these newcomers to this arena weren't even paying attention to the fact that they were about to be fighting for their lives. As the first jet banked around, and started to fire at the pair, the argument seemed to escalate– and the red one shoved the yellow one. Hard.

The first laser-bursts scorched the ground where the gold mech had been standing.

It seemed to get their attention, and the ground-bound mechs began to shoot back. However, it didn't stop the argument. The tone of the argument barely changed as they began to prove how the team of Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had managed to get to this arena.

"He's on your left." Sunstreaker called over the roar of a jet engine, and the growling disapproval of the audience.

"Right. And you've got one on your tail." Sideswipe spun hard right, and took a shot at one of their opponents.

"LEFT, micro-processor." The scorn dripped from Sunstreaker's tone, as he continued to dance between laser-bolts.

"I've got it already. Jump."

"Jump?"

"You use your leg servo motors to propel yourself into the air," Sideswipe told him. "Dumb-aft."

"Why?"

"Just do it. Now."

The yellow mech braced, and jumped. And suddenly found himself sitting atop of one of their opponent's jet forms.

"You know, you could've just told me he was comin' in for that."

"Where would be the fun in that, Sunshine?" Sideswipe grinned, as he ignited the previously unused jet-pack, and before the other jet realized it, took up a similar position on his back as well.

"Now what?" yelled Sunstreaker, hanging on tightly as his ride tried to barrel roll to dislodge him.

Sideswipe's ride decided to try and help his fellow by shooting at the mech on his back– only to find his shots going astray as the red mech started shifting his weight to throw off the balance.

"Get off! Get off!" Those in the audience who had bet on the champions were booing. Those who had not... some of them were actually cheering the brightly colored duo on. And one voice in particular, that should have been cheering– was actually silent.

"Let's see what these guys are made of!" Sideswipe cheerfully called, and, as Sunstreaker and his mount passed by, shifted suddenly, sending the nose of his jet into the left wing of the other jet. There was a wrenching sound of metal rending metal. And the now interlocked jets began to lose altitude. Fast.

Too late, Sideswipe noticed how high up they'd climbed. And how little fuel his jet-pack had left in it. He made a jump for Sunstreaker, knocking his brother off, and trying to slow their decent with the remaining fuel.

"Told you it wouldn't work." was the only comment that the spectators heard from Sunstreaker before the jets hit the ground with a loud crash. Bad luck continued, as fuel ran out. "Next time get parachutes."

And then they hit the ground.

* * *

Technically, the twins won the bout.

Technically.

That didn't change the fact that Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had managed to knock themselves offline shortly after their opponents. Sideswipe did hang on to consciousness a little longer than the rest, managing to stand up, and take a staggering bow in the sudden shocked silence of the stadium. Then fell over on top of one of the mangled jets.

The next things Sideswipe remembered after the tottering bow in Arena 15 were like a disjointed hazy dream.

In the disembodied way, that signaled low energy levels, Sideswipe was standing– though he did not recall moving– and he couldn't quite judge how long he'd been at this new place, that he recognized as the gates to the main market of Kaon. He could see the main road through the city from his vantage point, although he couldn't move to confirm anything– not even the shouts that sometimes sounded like his name from somewhere behind him.

Through the fog, he somehow realized that the voice was Sunstreaker's, and that his brother was nearby. The reassuring presence managed to quell the vague sense of panic which had started to rise at the realization that, despite the unconventional arena victory, they were being sold.

A few in the crowds of beings that passed through the gates stopped and stared in his direction. Some with a mixture of awe and disgust. Some with disgust, and a hint of fear. But mostly the fear.

Sideswipe was used to the stares of an arena crowd– distant and abstracted. This was.. More personal. In a way, he wanted nothing more than to break out and shake them. Ask them what they thought they were staring at. Anything– but he couldn't do anything other than stand there. Faces started blending together after a while, fading in and out of the dream-like world.

Only four remained distinct. Only four were different, lodging themselves somewhere in the back of his memory.

The first was a white mech, ambling by several times during the eternity that Sideswipe was standing at the gate. Golden optics would gaze in his direction each time with a hint of disgust and compassion. It was the compassion that set this one apart. He usually passed by alone, and when the white mech had a companion, the rich chuckle would announce his presence– and then stop as his gaze fell on the red mech.

The second was a look of shock and again, the compassion, reflected in the commanding blue optics of a large red, white and blue mech, whose face was partially covered by a battle mask. He only passed the gates twice. Once on the way in. Once on the way out.

On the way out, the mech paused, the shock replaced by an indignant anger, as he looked towards Sideswipe. Then he sped on his way towards the main gates of the city.

The third was the gaze of an elegantly styled femme. She usually passed by with an entourage, always stopping to give Sideswipe a long calculating stare that made the numb coldness that had been his companion since he had awakened in the marketplace feel as though he'd just stepped into the absolute zero of space.

She passed by, from as near as he could tell, once a day.

Fourth... wasn't exactly a face. It wasn't exactly a look, either– but it marked the end of the fog, and the beginning of the last day at the gate.

* * *

**Kaon Market: Early Morning**

The pre-dawn market was dark and cold. Sideswipe was too low on energy to even note much more than a bit of frozen vapor had lightened some of the surfaces within his vision. Just like the countless days and hours before, the world, for the moment, was silent and still.

Just like all the other unnumerable days and hours, Sideswipe was wondering in that vaguely foggy way, when this would all end. When could he go back to the arenas, how Sunstreaker was. If Sunny was in the same foggy state of mind. And most importantly, if Sunny was still mad about the 'no parachute' thing.

Someone had been mad.

Sideswipe just couldn't think of who it was right now. Especially since there were voices echoing in his audials.

Voices?

Sideswipe forced himself to concentrate. Which itself was a chore on most normal days.

"...Slowly now," an unfamiliar voice was close by, and yet echoed in his audials as though it were far away. "S'far as I can tell you've been without fer at least a week. Need ta let yer intakes catch up, and start workin' again."

There was a grunt that reminded him of yellow. His brother. And a long silence.

"Who are you?" The tones of suspicion were in the familiar voice. Sunstreaker. That kept Sideswipe's attention.

"What goes around, comes around." the other voice spoke quietly, "Jus' call me Ricochet." There was another grunt from Sunstreaker. "M'boss will have my tail if I get caught, he don't want this public."

"Bro?" Vaguely Sideswipe realized that the voices were below and to the right. Odd.

"Yeah. I'll get t'him next. Sorry I can't do no more than this." A dark shadow in the periphery of his vision moved, and a black mech with orange flame details stepped in front of him. The impression of a blue visor set in a white helm filled his vision, as a crooked frown came close, as though inspecting him.

"I ain't no medic, but this and some fuel should help." The hands were doing something to him, and Sideswipe realized that the fog had receded.

For the first time in a long time, Sideswipe sighed. The pressure he hadn't realized was there, the inhibitor on his vocalizer, was gone.

"That's not much of an improvement." Sunstreaker said.

"Just give 'im a minute or two." A container was brought to his mouth, and slowly, so slowly, the liquid fuel began to replenish his stores.

"You could've left his vocals off. That's how he got the honor of bein' the one stapled to the gatepost." The dreamy state was gone, and the slight ache of inactivity– and awkward positioning– invaded.

"Shut up." Sideswipe mumbled irritably.

"Easy there." The unfamiliar mech stepped away. "I dunno what you did t'deserve this– if anything. I'll never understand this crazy city."

"Genius over there decided t' try an' smart mouth Xaon, when he was still pissed about loosin' a lot of money on us."

"I told him he shouldn't have bet against us!" Sideswipe protested.

"Xaon... your owner? So he smacked the pair of ya around, an' put you on the market?"

"Something like that." Sunstreaker moved, and Sideswipe could hear the sound of force-chains. And a bit of frustration in the voice. "He had a couple of his goons go after bro, and I couldn't just let it go. So we both got knocked around a bit, and he was still mouthing off to Xaon."

"He had it comin'" Sideswipe made a face, and he could see by the brightening light, that Ricochet had almost smiled at it.

"So... your own master bet against his own?"

"That's how it works around here." Sunstreaker said flatly. "Sometimes you win. Sometimes you lose. You didn't know that?"

"I didn't want to lose."

"I'm... not from around here. My boss just asked me t' come and see the city." There was something that Ricochet wasn't saying. Sideswipe knew it, but let it pass. They'd live another day. "And I've got to split outta here– the market's gonna open up, and I don't need t'be caught."

"... yeah. They won't like it if someone's been messing with the merchandise outside of business hours." The shadowy mech picked up the containers that he'd brought with him, and started slipping off into a shadow.

"... thank you–" said Sideswipe– but Ricochet had already vanished.

* * *

The Ice Queen and her cubes, as Sideswipe had named the dark femme and her entourage in his head, arrived a few hours later for her usual stare. This time, however, Sideswipe wasn't just going to hang there, and ignore it. Now that the fuzzies were gone from his head, he was more than ready to tell her where she could go.

Stock still, the calculating look pierced him– and even without the foggy mind, Sideswipe still got that cold sensation in his internals. It didn't stop him.

"What do ya think you're starin' at?" he almost spat at her.

Surprise only registered on the delicately sculpted face for a moment– but was quickly replaced by a cold and calculating smile.

"Nice goin' motor mouth." Sunstreaker muttered somewhere out of his vision.

"You've gained a voice, I see." The whispery voice was smooth, as one slender arm gestured to a mech on her left. "Find the one who is selling these, and bring him to me."

The mech looked as though he were about to protest, but hurried off.

"I've had a voice all along, ya cold–"

"For pity's sake, 'Swipe, shut it."

"No, no..." the femme stepped closer, "I was hesitant before, but now..." The violet optics narrowed, as the calculating look returned. "I am most certain."

"Certain about what?" Sideswipe ignored his brother's mutterings.

"Certain that the pair of you will work out very well for my purposes." The purple and black femme gave him another appraising look, and continued on her way to the marketplace.

An hour later, Xaon's guards came to pull Sideswipe down, and drag the pair of them off to their new 'home'. And yank and drag they did. By the time Sideswipe recovered, he was stumbling through their new owner's complex, leaning heavily on a grumbling Sunstreaker.

* * *

**Antipode Complex**

Whatever the thoughts that Sideswipe had entertained about what the femme wanted from him and his brother in the hour or so that they'd been left alone had absolutely no relation to what he actually found himself doing. If anyone had asked him what he'd end up doing in the future, the answer would have inevitably have had something to do with the arenas, something to do with battle.

Nothing to do with scrubbing floors.

And most certainly not painted up in the same blacks and purples as the head of the complex. Sideswipe's only consolation at this point was the sight of Sunstreaker, painted similarly, put to work on cleaning the large windows somewhere above.

Sunstreaker, for his part, kept muttering something about killing Sideswipe– so he was keeping his distance. Though, even Sunstreaker would eventually have to admit– cleaning was better than hanging around in the marketplace by a longshot.

The new owner, for her part, after an initial inspection, had sent them off for repairs and the repaint. Neither had seen her after that– although the others in the complex were only too happy to tell the brothers about Arachnae– the chief of the weapons development and distribution program in Kaon.

She was, one cowed mech told them, working on a deal to supply weapons to a new market in Iacon. In fact, the Iaconian leader had already visited the complex to view Arachnae's products. Of course, the deal would be handled by the Commerce Centre– a third party neutral. And was subsequently preparing to travel to Protihex to finalize the transaction.

All very interesting. To someone else.

Sideswipe could care less. Well. Except about the weapons. Those, he was quite certain, would be something to see. Still, something about the memory of Arachnae's calculating looks told him that she wasn't looking for two new domestic servants to lift heavy objects, and scrub floors.

Precisely three weeks later, it was confirmed, when the dark femme herself stalked into the room where he was dutifully– but boredly– contemplating just how much cleanser it would take to flood the floor to the point where no one could walk through without starting to stick to it.

"You." Kicking over the cleanser container, she pointed up at him. "And the other one– are coming with me. Now."

Surprised, Sideswipe could only follow– and outside, saw Sunstreaker across the grand courtyard, with a bemused look on his face. Finally, they were going to do something. Maybe she'd decided to take up Arena battles, and he and Sunstreaker would be–

"...guards." Arachnae was saying something, and he hadn't been paying attention. Focusing on her, he realized that most of her entourage was missing. "You both have inhibitor chips planted in your circuits, so don't even think of trying to escape while we're there. Got it?"

Sideswipe only nodded in confusion. Going? Trip?

"Bodyguards." Sunstreaker muttered to him, catching the confusion. "On the way to Protihex."

The deal.

"Good. Now stop whispering, and get to the craft. Protihex is waiting for my arrival."

* * *

**Protihex: Commerce Centre Negotiation Chamber**

"... Iacon has decided to decline your services." The large black and white minister told Arachnae almost kindly, "Deepest apologies, Director Arachnae, it was a decision based on conscience, and not on the quality of your products–"

The cold rage on Arachnae's face would have almost frightened Sideswipe, had he been on the receiving end. As it was, Minister Tacheon merely smiled, amber optics steady on the femme. He didn't even seem phased by the two bodyguards that the femme had insisted on bringing inside the negotiation chamber.

The slightly smaller white shadow behind Tacheon, however, seemed a little nervous. And familiar.

"How dare they? After leading me to believe –"

"I'm afraid the answer is final, Director. If you would like, I can open negotiations with another interested party–"

"Who then?" Arachnae snarled.

The amber optics behind Tacheon studied the impromptu bodyguards, while the minister began to explain the details of the other offer on the table. For a white mech, Tacheon's aid knew how to remain in the shadows– if it hadn't been for the familiarity of the gaze, Sideswipe would have missed the pitying look that had flashed across his face.

And then he remembered.

"That offer is acceptable." The firm tones of their owner cut through Sideswipe's rumination, dragging his attention back to the femme. "Let them know that I will deliver as soon as they send payment." Arachnae was rising, "And now, I must get back to my lab."

* * *

**Antipode Complex Test Chamber: 5000 years later**

Stars danced in the edges of Sideswipe's vision, as he swung, hands retracting in favor of the newly installed pile drivers. It didn't matter anymore if he wanted to give up. The drone wasn't going to let him leave the room in one piece.

Not for the first time he wondered if it would have been better just to fade away quietly under the gawking stares of a crowd that feared and despised him– rather than the slow and constant string of testing. Sideswipe wasn't stupid by any means– and even he could see that the tests were getting harder every year. Every time one of them was taken to the testing chamber, in some small way, he hoped it would be the last.

The tests had been simple at first. Arachnae had mostly seemed curious about her new slaves. The day after the long ago trip out of Kaon, they'd been taken to the labs, and scrutinized. Tests of strength, agility, intelligence– gathering the baseline data in preparation for something that made the violet optics of the researcher gleam.

After that, the tests had gotten worse; pain thresholds, sensory deprivation– tests that seemed to have no purpose other than to cause pain.

And then came the modifications.

Sideswipe hadn't seen Sunny after some of the tests for years at a time. There was always the constant reassuring sensation of his brother being somewhere nearby. And somehow, Sideswipe knew that he too was going through similar tests.

The last modification had been a few days ago– the last time Sideswipe had seen his brother. He was nearby– but Sideswipe couldn't take the time to figure out just where at the moment.

Charging the drone with a wordless cry, Sideswipe was slammed across the room by an appendage that felt as though it carried the weight and strength of a planet behind it.

Knowing Arachnae, it probably did.

With a crash, Sideswipe's bulk hit the wall, and he slid to the floor. He was hurting, but he knew from long experience that he was nowhere near the threshold of his endurance. Staring at the floor between his legs, Sideswipe knew he could still get up, could still fight– he just lacked the will to continue the pointless exercise right now.

A sudden wave of fear and anger hit him like a freight train, as two words filled his mind in a familiar voice.

_Roll, bro!_

Without thinking, he obeyed the voice, and winced as the shards from the wall showered him. The planetary weighted fist of the drone had impacted in the crater that he'd just vacated. If he'd stayed there a moment longer, it could've crushed him beyond salvage.

_Keep moving, Sideswipe!_

Sunny? _Sunny?_

The thought struck him suddenly. Sunstreaker was watching, just as Sideswipe himself had been forced to do so many times. Restrained in the lab next door. As he had every time Sideswipe had been sent in this chamber–

_Get moving you slow fragging skidplate!_

It was as though Sunstreaker were there, and yelling in his audials.

The tentacle-like appendage slammed into him again, as Sideswipe just stood there trying to digest the idea that he could 'hear' Sunstreaker. He was sent in a new direction this time. Towards the ceiling.

_Suggestions would be good at this point._

_Jets, 'Swipe. If you can get behind it, there's weaker armor there. I can see it, every time the thing moves._

Sideswipe ignited the jets, stabilizing himself before he hit the ceiling, and made a stumbling landing behind the slightly slower moving drone. Pile drivers flipping out and aiming at the slightly more vulnerable back panels of the larger machine.

_Now bro! Hit it!_

Sideswipe swung in, for the first time in ages feeling the reward of feeling the metal buckle under his blows. The structure started to give way. He wasn't going to be beaten this time. And for the first time in the thousands of years of their possession by Arachnae and her weapons research program, he was about to defeat the biggest and deadliest of her designs. The triumph rolled off of him in waves.

_Winnin' at last!_

_Bro! _A startled, almost panicked voice, _Look out for the–_

A tentacle shot around, a wicked looking blade on its tip. Before Sunstreaker could finish his warning, it stabbed through the armor on Sideswipe's chest as though it were foil.

Sideswipe fell to one knee, yanking at the appendage– trying to get it out of his chest– get it away from the machine.

_Swipe–_

Threshold of pain.

_SWIPE–_

The blade came out easier than he'd expected, and with the scream of metal, the tentacle was wrenched off of the drone. Through the staticky black floating in the corner of his vision, he saw the hole that he'd made in the drone's plating, and swung the blade towards it, ignoring the sudden sheering sensation, and the sound of grinding emitting from his chest.

The blade struck true, and a shower of sparks erupted from the drone to add to the sparkles in his visuals. A crash– and Sideswipe realized the drone had just fallen over, deactivated.

_Victory._

Sideswipe started to wobble to his feet, and nearly slipped in the puddle at his feet. Looking down, he detatchedly noted the sizable hole in his chest, and the steady stream of liquid coming from it.

_SLAGGIT– Bro– I'm coming!_ Anger. Horror. Pain. Fear.

And Sideswipe could feel nothing except the last. He staggered, systems beginning to lock up.

"Test concluded" The hated voice chimed over the intercom, almost drowned by another metallic crash– and suddenly Sideswipe found himself supported by the familiar presence of his brother.

"'Swipe..."

"H-hey Bro..." He tried to grin. _Ain't dead yet... _He tried to reassure Sunstreaker, absently noting the marks where it looked as though Sunstreaker had literally ripped through the restraints. Then realized that he had ripped through them.

"Dumb-aft..." Nothing but concern behind the words. And a faint ache echoing through to him. _I should've seen it sooner..._

"Yeah... let's see you try flying then." _Not your fault..._

"Enhancement experiment, successful. Mark date. Technicians, move the subjects to the repair station."

Sideswipe wavered.

_Bro–_

The spinning stars finally tugged him down into the all too familiar well of unconsciousness.

* * *

**Arena 15: 50 years later**

The nearby stars were high and bright in mid-cycle, just as they had been a lifetime ago. And just as it had been those ages ago, the arena was filled to capacity. New cracks showed on the floor, and the shine had been scorched off of the gates to the slave-pens by the millions of battles that had been fought on this playing field.

Essentially, however, it was the same place that Sideswipe remembered.

Except for the audience. This crowd wasn't the same jeering yelling mob, placing last minute bets. There were probably still bets going on– but not with the same enthusiasm and openness that had been so typical before the Decepticons had started filtering into the city. Now most of those sitting in the stadium wore the purple insignia of the Decepticon empire.

From the ground level, it was impossible to see inside the enclosed area where he knew Arachnae was lurking, cold violet optics alight with the same old calculating look, and the new purple symbol emblazoned proudly on her torso.

_This will be a test, my dears... for the good of my laboratory, and for the Decepticon empire's approval. So show how well you have been re-made, and remember, _the whispery voice had almost purred, _what happens if you disobey my will._

And remember they did.

The lights of the arena brightened, as the familiar voice announced the beginning of the exhibition. Their cue.

Obediently they stepped forward to the center of the arena, glinting darkly in the spotlight, insignias newly painted on their chests. Without sound, they stopped in the center, as Arachnae had instructed them. And there was silence.

Sideswipe could hear the rasp and grind of metal as his brother's fist clenched, and through the shared link, he could feel the hatred rolling off of Sunstreaker in waves. He could feel the deep scowl that he knew was echoed on his own face, as he knew Sunstreaker could feel the rage simmering in his own mind.

Round One.

The murmur of an announcement barely penetrated, as Sideswipe let his gaze search the crowd, memorizing the nods of approval, and the sneers of superiority. And the curious frown of a blue visor somewhere in the middle.

Ricochet?

Sunstreaker barely acknowledged the thought sent to him, as the gates on the opposite side of the arena rose, and their opponents strode in.

There were, Sideswipe noted, only five of them.

With the enhancements that Arachnae had made to their armor, and to their bodies– a few of the standard combatant models wouldn't stand much of a chance against them.

Who was he kidding? They wouldn't stand any chance.

Giving Sunstreaker a tense nod, they waited for the unknowing quintet to close in. This wouldn't take long at all.

Twenty minutes of grinding metal, and shrieks of pain later, Sideswipe found that he was absolutely right.

A tone from above caught their attention, and Sunstreaker dropped the dismembered arm that he'd been wielding, with a sick dull crash. Sideswipe retracted the pile drivers, and stepped away from the last of the opponents to fall.

Round Two.

Sideswipe looked up towards the audience, as the tone continued for another minute, and then stopped. A sudden burst of apprehension was shot his way, as the sound of the gates opening a second time reached his audials. He turned slowly, watching as five more mechs entered the amphitheater, each in the distinctive black and purple of Arachnae's house.

Each with the Decepticon emblem clearly visible.

""Descent, Cacophony, Spitfire, Singularity, and... Checkmate." The whispery cold voice announced, "Separately, they are strong– tempered and strengthened by the advancements produced by my lab."

A point. There had to be a point. They weren't the only turbo-rats in Arachnae's little hole in the wall. And even if they were all outfitted like himself and his brother, Sideswipe knew there was still a chance– after all, they'd survived this long.

"Separately they function as an elite unit. Together..." The unmistakable note of cold pride entered the voice, as the new grouping moved to the center– as the brothers had. Another of Arachnae's mechanations. "Together, they will be unstoppable."

The five stopped in the center, and began to transform– but not in any way that any of spectators had ever seen before. Not by a longshot.

Apprehension grew, as the five separate beings became one– larger than the normal drones that Arachnae had regularly set them against.

"Through trials, and through research, we have found a way to make their minds into one." The femme explained, to those watching. "Together, they are Havok." The large combined form growled menacingly, and stepped forwards, crushing one of the bodies lying closer to it with an ominous crunch.

"Havok, it is time to show your strength. Kill the two monsters within the ring."

Monsters. Sideswipe didn't have to look around to figure out whom Arachnae was referring to. The only active beings in the area were himself, and...

_Got to get moving bro– _

The real monster in the arena was starting to move now. A little slower than he'd expected, but still fast enough to make staying ahead a challenge. Sideswipe started moving along one side of the arena, movements mirrored by Sunstreaker on the other. They were two. Havok was one. He'd have to choose a target to concentrate on.

There was a rousing cheer from the Decepticon elements in the audience, as the combined mind, without hesitation, shot a pair of missiles from his wrists. At both of them.

Something struck Sideswipe, denting the plating along his left leg. The missile had missed him– barely– and struck the wall separating them from the st ands. A chunk of it had fallen away. The impact with his leg sent him sprawling.

_Still here, 'Swipe._

The reassuring touch gave him all the incentive he needed to spring to his feet before the giant's hand impacted with the ground where he'd fallen. Sunstreaker had managed to escape the missile as well– with minor scratches. Now Sideswipe just had to concern himself with getting away from the sudden attention that Havok was paying to him. He zagged, escaping a close encounter with the foot that was coming his way.

A sense of surprise and smug satisfaction suddenly emanated along the link.

_Sunny? _Sideswipe couldn't see his brother, but knew he was somewhere close by.

_Just keep moving and distract him–_

_Whatever you're doin' hurry up. _Sideswipe felt the rush of atmosphere as the giant foot started to fall in his direction. Dodge. Roll. Come up running. Ignore the humming sound of laserfire.

Laserfire?

There was an outraged roar from behind him, and Sideswipe risked a look backwards. Then tripped, as he caught a glimpse of Sunstreaker through the giant's legs. He was standing a short distance behind Havok with an ancient looking laser-pistol in his hands.

_Sunny?_

The monster turned, a whole lot faster than either of them had thought possible, and sent

a sharp kick in Sunstreaker's direction. There was no chance for either of them to react, as the side of Havok's foot caught Sunstreaker squarely. A flash of pain surged along the link, as Sideswipe watched his brother's body flying up– and striking the electrified shield around the enclosure where Arachnae was probably watching with the usual strange cold look on her face.

Sideswipe didn't even have time to register the smoke rising from the back of the monster, where Sunstreaker's shot had hit square, before the creature was spinning again. Before he could even send a thought his brother's way, Havok had snatched him from where he was still gaping– and threw him in the opposite direction.

Landing didn't hurt nearly as much as he'd expected it to. Probably because there were a few mechs who were a little too slow to move out of the way.

Sideswipe immediately leaped to his feet, and looked for Sunstreaker.

_Bro? Are you okay?_

No answer. But there was a reassuring sense of his presence– on the other side of the arena. They were no longer in the box, and Havok couldn't get at them here. Sideswipe ignored the snarling of the Decepticon crowd, and started pushing his way around– hard. Most of those in the stands were pushing back, trying to herd him towards the wall, so they could push him back over.

He wasn't having any of that. Sideswipe changed one hand to pile driver, and began to strike back, not caring who or where he struck, as long as he could get through to Sunny. In a vague way, he realized that Sunstreaker was doing similar– heading for him through the sea of spectators utterly unprepared for the simmering rage of the separated twins.

The narrow focus of combat was suddenly jerked away, as he swung the driver hand towards the face of one of those sporting the Decepticon emblem. Sideswipe had forgotten, for a moment, about Arachnae.

_Remember, _the memory of the whispery voice entered his mind again, _what happens if you disobey my will._

To those around him, it must have looked as though Sideswipe had suddenly hit a wall. Instead of swinging, his arms went up, and curled around his head, as he bellowed, falling to his knees. Arachnae's control circuits had been activated, and a sensation of pure agonizing fire raced along every neural pathway.

Threshold.

The world started to turn dark.

_Sideswipe!_

He couldn't respond.

_SIDESWIPE!_

A small measure of the burning decreased, and Sideswipe could almost see the figures surrounding him. Surprisingly, none of them had started to try and toss him over the wall again. Maybe it was because of the figure looming over him. Distantly, he recognized Sunstreaker brandishing that old gun, and keeping the few remaining Decepticons at bay.

Or maybe it was the other shadow that seemed to be falling over the entire section. Havok. The combiner seemed to have realized that he had failed to kill them by throwing them, and was now trying to get over the wall, and at them. To put it in perspective, being crushed by a giant hand would probably be a lot less painful right now.

_Hang on, Sideswipe. This is gonna hurt._

_What's going to hurt? _Sideswipe could barely form the thought. _Like this doesn't?_

Vaguely Sideswipe saw Sunstreaker's free arm move towards him, felt the tug as his brother yanked his arm away from his head, and then an explosion of pain in the back of his head, that eclipsed the circuit wrenching agony.

By the time his head stopped feeling like it was about to fall off, he realized two things. First: They were no longer in the arena. Sideswipe found that he had one arm draped over Sunstreaker's shoulders, and his feet were automatically tracking, as they hurried along some dark-lit street.

Second was that Sunny seemed to be talking to someone that Sideswipe couldn't see. Raising his head, he also realized that the fire was gone.

"'Bout time you snapped out of it." Sunstreaker grumbled at him. _The leash is gone– couldn't wait for your systems to readjust._

"Unh." Sideswipe was looking around at the street. It was, he realized, one he'd seen before. But from a slightly different perspective. "Where are we goin'?" _And who were you talking to? Ricochet?_"We're not being followed, are we?"

_Not Ricochet. _Sunstreaker shook his head, and Sideswipe's arm off of his shoulders, forcing him to start walking on his own. "Arena crowd's kinda busy with Havok." he said aloud, "We're leavin' the city."

Leaving the city. Never again to be bought or sold– or used.

"Come on," The unfamiliar voice was soft, and surprisingly feminine. "The others will have made the gate by now– I've got to get you there before the patrol finds them."

Surprised, Sideswipe could only stare as the slenderly built black and gold femme melted out of the shadows. Alarmingly, she wore a Decepticon emblem.

"We're right behind you. Now that short-shift here can walk on his own, we can get going a little faster." _She said to call her 'Dice'._

"Good." Dice nodded, and blended back into the shadows.

_She's an Autobot agent– Some of their own were captured, and being sold in the market here. Dice helped a group of them get in and break them out while everyone was watching us in the Arena._

_Why is she helping us?_

_All she'd tell me is that she owed someone a favor._

The gates to the city were within sight. One force shield was down, and a figure waited just outside– and Dice remained in the shadows.

"Go with them. Optimus Prime and the others will help you." The soft voice told them. "I must return, or someone will start to suspect me."

"Thank you–" Sideswipe said, but suspected that the femme was already gone.

Battered in body and mind, the brothers stepped through the gate together, to join the Autobots waiting for them just outside the city.

With one last step, they were free.

* * *

**South Central Oregon: 2000 CE**

The Pacific northwest could never stay sunny for a long period of time. Today wasn't going to be one of those rare occasions that the entire day remained bright. While Sideswipe had talked, the clouds had gathered, and a few drops of water started to fall onto the pair in the field. But by the time his story had ended, the sun had come out again.

"First thing we did, once we got outta there was get our paint right." Sideswipe said, "Optimus was pretty nice about that. Said he'd seen us before Arachnae got hold of us, and that getting rid of her colors might help it feel more real to be free." The red mech smiled, "He was right."

"Did you ever find out what happened to Ricochet?" Rewind said, after a moment. "Or why he was at the Arena?"

"Never found out why he was there..." Sideswipe's smile went away slowly, and he kicked a small pile of pebbles, scattering them across the field. "But he was an agent. Ops told us that the Decepticons caught him, and killed him a few years before we left Cybertron. We never saw him again."

The silence had grown awkward again. Fortunately Rewind could hear the soft purr of an engine, and spied a flash of white heading their way. Unless he was mistaken, it was one of the medics, followed by someone who could get Sideswipe back to base.

"Dice was probably doing a favor for Ricochet then?" he asked.

"Might never know. It's been a long time. And we never saw her again."

* * *

**The Ark's Bridge**

Patience, Laserbeak knew, was considered a virtue.

And each passing hour that he spent atop Teletran One's main screen was one more hour in which his patience was to be tested. Laserbeak could see that Blaster was not going to be leaving any time soon. The red Autobot seemed to have, if anything, planted himself more firmly in front of the com-station, monitoring the local frequencies for a spot some miles distant.

All the Decepticon needed was five minutes.

The waiting game, it seemed, would continue.

* * *

**In Orbit**

To say that Soundwave was not pleased, would have been one of the understatements of the day. After briefly seeing to the pair of seejers that he had retrieved, he had stalked to the console in order to track the third.

What he found was the cause of the visible tic in his face-mask, rather than the low-processing powered stunt that the trio had attempted. The attempted raid merely annoyed Soundwave. The loss of signal from Thundercracker's locator disturbed him.

The idea that the Autobots might get there first, and retrieve the seeker was what was angering him. That could not happen. As unimportant as the life of one mere soldier was to the mission, Soundwave could not let that happen.

Cycling the computer, he prepared the airlock for departure once more.

"When you have finished straightening your wings," he intoned over the radio to the pair in the minuscule repair bay, "Follow me to the coordinates on the main screen. You can help me carry Thundercracker back to base." The door cycled, and Soundwave departed once more.


End file.
